


Blood Kiss

by smuttyandabsurd



Category: Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Anne Rice - Freeform, M/M, One Shot, The Vampire Armand, Vampire Chronicles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-23
Updated: 2012-04-23
Packaged: 2017-11-04 04:30:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/389761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smuttyandabsurd/pseuds/smuttyandabsurd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He lies in intoxicated sleep, a Fallen Angel. Why must I love his beauty, his insubordination?"</p><p>Marius consummates his love for Amadeo.</p><p>Marius/Armand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood Kiss

_He lies in intoxicated sleep, a Fallen Angel. Why must I love his beauty, his insubordination?_

* * *

I hear him stirring from his sleep, moaning slightly from the pain brought on by excessive alcohol consumption. I set down my quill and turned to look at him. He was sitting up in bed, his face buried in his hand, looking quite ill. Quickly I brought to him a glass of water. I sat down on the edge of the bed and coaxed him to drink.

He took a sip and immediately choked. I waited till his spluttering subsided before placing the glass in his hands, from which he obediently raised to drink. And gripped by a sudden thirst, he drained it all at once, his exposed throat moving as the colour returned to his wan complexion.  
  
Once the glass was empty, I took it from him and pulled him closer to me so his heavy head rested against my shoulder. He breathed in deeply, contented to stay as I stroked his auburn curls, my cold lips pressed quietly to the feverish heat of his forehead. We shared this silent intimacy for a moment before I pulled away and set the glass on a bedside table.  
  
“I apologise for my behaviour, Master,” he said meekly, his eyes averted from me. I said nothing. I was disappointed in him, but there was no anger.  
  
“Go back to sleep,” I said at last, unforgiving. But as I rose to leave he caught hold of me and pulled me back to bed, clinging desperately to my clothes.  
  
“Master, I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice muffled against my chest.  
  
“Amadeo…”  
  
I lifted his chin so that he faced me, his warm brown eyes looking beseechingly into mine even as they half-lowered in wavering shame. Swiftly I kissed him, tasting the alcohol on his breath, softly at first before pushing him back onto the bed, pinning him down by his fragile wrists, his surprise melting into desire. I loved him, I wanted him. It was all I could think of.  
  
I kissed him all over, his eyelids, his lips, his neck, tearing loose his garments to access the naked skin of his chest, his torso. All the while the blood thirst rose in me, incensed by the tantalising smell of the blood flowing in his veins. I kissed and teethed at his flawless skin, indulging in the scent and nothing else.  
  
“Master…” he sighed in pleasure, but not without a hint of impatience. My kisses were fast becoming too chaste, and the young male in him hungered for more.  
  
“Is this what you want from me?” I whispered as my fingers felt him harden to my touch. He moaned longingly in sweet reply, his eyes clamping shut as he took in shuddering breaths.  
  
My hand was soon bathed in wet warmth, and I withdrew it to inspect the viscous opaque clinging to my fingers. Amadeo looked at it as well, his half-lidded gaze quickly coming into focus as his breathing evened out. On an impulse he pulled my hand to his lips, and before I could stop him he had given it a tentative lick, his eyes closing once more as he lapped eagerly at his own mess, licking it clean with the fastidious prudence of a cat cleaning its own fur.  
  
The blood thirst returned once more as I fell under the spell of his seduction. I bit into my tongue and filled my mouth with blood, and when he finally released my hand I latched my lips to his, sealing it in a Blood Kiss, letting my blood mingle with the slight bitterness of his semen. He shivered at the taste, pressing hard to my mouth till it bruised, and when I firmly pulled away he ran his tongue over his trembling lips to savour the tingling aftertaste.  
  
“Give me more,” he pleaded softly.  
  
And with his consent I found myself nuzzling against his neck, all senses heightened as when I hunt; I could hear the blood rushing in his veins, could smell it, could almost taste it. He tilted his head to better offer himself to me, and in the same sudden manner he had snatched my hand, I sank my fangs into his soft pale throat, hearing him gasp as the warm blood flowed into my mouth, feeling his arms tighten around my neck as he pulled me closer.  
  
I was drowning in ecstasy, moaning into the wound I had so lovingly made as his thundering heartbeat filled my ears. His body trembled against mine, and suddenly he cried out in hoarse passion, fiercely urging me to continue even as he physically began to weaken. I drank and I drank, greedy for more, for all of him, until I snapped out of my intoxicated delight with a sudden surge of horror – I would kill him!  
  
After I had torn loose from him, we simply lay side-by-side, heaving for breath. I was still giddy from the taste of him, and he visibly shaken from the experience.  
  
“Amadeo?” I called anxiously, but he simply smiled.  
  
“I love you, Master,” he murmured drowsily as a heaviness shrouded his consciousness.  
  
How long I lay simply watching him, I can’t tell. I found peace in the measured breathing of his slumber, but the coming of day beckoned me to the safety of my secret dwelling, and all too quickly I had to leave him. Quietly I slipped out of bed and put on my red cloak. I shut the journal that lay on my writing table and returned the quill to the inkpot.  
  
Dawn was about to break, yet I lingered to lean over his sleeping form. I dare not kiss him for fear of disturbing his peace.  
  
“You are for me, Amadeo,” I whispered to him, ignoring the gnawing pain in my heart.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Inspired from a passage in The Vampire Armand:**  
>  "I got drunk the next day, but I had the sense to stagger into Bianca's house and climb under her bed, where I could fall asleep without risk. Before midnight the Master pulled me out. I thought, _Now I'll get it_. But he only put me to bed, where I fell asleep before I could apologize. When I woke once it was to see him at his writing desk, writing as swiftly as he could paint, in some great book which he always managed to hide before he left the house."


End file.
